Notes

People will look back on this era in our history to see what was known about Donald Trump while Americans were deciding whether to choose him as president. Here’s a running chronicle from James Fallows on the evidence available to voters as they make their choice, and of how Trump has broken the norms that applied to previous major-party candidates. (For a Fallows-led, ongoing reader discussion on Trump’s rise to the presidency, see “Trump Nation.”)

General Joseph Joffre, in the center, around the time of his successful command of French troops at the First Battle of the Marne in World War I. Behind him is General Philippe Pétain, revered for his service during that war, later reviled for his figurehead leadership of France's 1940s Vichy regime. Marshal Pétain is the guiding spirit of this Midterm Time Capsule series.George Grantham Bain Collection, Library of Congress

As I write, the national news is dominated by the arrival of Hurricane Florence, and the political news has emphasized Donald Trump’s reaction to this event and last year’s Hurricane Maria. Other Atlantic pieces lay out some of the problems with Trump’s response: for instance, one by David Graham here and others by Vann Newkirk here and here. My purpose this evening is to contrast the way this president is reacting to a natural-disaster challenge with what his predecessors have done.

Let’s review the chronology:

On Tuesday, September 12, Donald Trump awarded himself “A pluses” for his administration’s hurricane-response efforts in Florida and Texas. In a tweet he also said that his team “did an unappreciated great job in Puerto Rico, even though an inaccessible island with very poor electricity and a totally incompetent Mayor of San Juan). We are ready for the big one that is coming!” That big one is of course Hurricane Florence, which as of this writing is beginning its landfall on the Carolina coast.
Via Twitter

This morning, September 13, Trump sent out Tweets asserting that reports of large-scale casualties in Puerto Rico were hype and faked—and that the fakery was part of a scheme to “make me look as bad as possible.”
Via Twitter

What this shows about Trump is familiar. He is unbounded by fact. He is incapable of understanding any event except through the prism of how it makes him look. He cannot even feign the sober selflessness expected of leaders of any organization. He …. well, he is himself.

But this is worth noting for the record as it underscores two points. One involves Trump’s further departure from the norms of all previous presidents. The other involves the response of the supposedly co-equal legislative branch.

The office: Like it or not, consciously or by instinct, all previous presidents have tried to do two things after taking office. The first is to expand the base. Or at least to try.

Through all of America’s presidential elections, only once has the winning candidate received as much as 61 percent of the popular vote. That was Lyndon Johnson, who got that 61 percent against Barry Goldwater, in 1964. FDR against Alf Landon in 1936, Richard Nixon against George McGovern in 1972, and Warren Harding against James Cox in 1920—these were landslide elections that still fell short of LBJ’s record, at just around 60 percent of the vote.

All the other winning candidates got less. This seems obvious, but focus on what it means: Every new president takes office knowing that 40+ percent of the public wishes he hadn’t won. In response, every one of them has at least tried to court some people from the other side.

The long litany of inaugural addresses, which you can peruse at the invaluable UC Santa Barbara American Presidency Project site, contains one example after another of new presidents trying to expand their support. For instance: Jimmy Carter’s inaugural address, which I helped work on, devoted its very first line to thanking Carter’s vanquished opponent, Gerald Ford, “for all he has done to heal our land.” This was controversial at the time, because the “healing” included Ford’s decision to pardon Richard Nixon for Watergate offenses, rather than expose a former president to possible trial. The extra edge was Carter’s awareness that the pardon had hurt Ford politically, and increased the chances it would be Carter rather than Ford taking the oath that day.

There are countless other examples, but the main point is: out of decency, out of political calculation, out of the primal political-psychology impulse to be liked, and perhaps too because they have been sobered by the responsibilities of office, nearly all presidents start out trying to be unifiers. On the campaign trail, they spoke about the opponents as them. Once in office, they try to talk about us.

The language of us is foreign to Trump. When applied to the U.S. citizens who live in Puerto Rico. When applied to traditional U.S. allies who are part of NATO. When applied to the elected officials of another party who share governing responsibility. When applied to anything. In all these cases, it’s simpler: me, and them. The theme of the reprises of his campaign rallies, 20 months into his time in office, is: I won! Those losers lost!

Does this seem unusual? That’s because it is.

The other duty that previous presidents recognize as falling to them involves the emotional, ceremonial, inspirational, and even parental responsibilities of being the symbolic head of the national family. At moments of national stress or tragedy, most previous presidents have risen to this responsibility without even being told that they should do so.

After the space shuttle Challenger blew up, Ronald Reagan gave a brief, moving speech what this meant for the country as a whole. (“Nancy and I are pained to the core by the tragedy of the shuttle Challenger. We know we share this pain with all of the people of our country. This is truly a national loss.”) Bill Clinton did something similar after the terrorist bombing of a government building in Oklahoma City. George W. Bush did so in his address to Congress nine days after the 9/11 attacks. Barack Obama, after the Charleston church shooting. You name a president, and a historian can locate some example of that person trying to act as head of state (not party), and as leader of the national family.

Every president, except this one.

The absence of that instinct—to unify, to heal, to reassure, to embolden—is the most notable aspect of Trump’s response to anyone else’s suffering.

Checks and balances: One of Congress’s supposed powers and obligations involves “oversight” of this executive branch. That is: hearings, investigations, and other ways of determining how members of the Executive Branch are carrying out their jobs.

At their highest level, these have involved public sessions like those that Senator J. William Fulbright, of Arkansas, held about the Vietnam War in the 1960s. Or that Senator Frank Church, of Idaho, held about excesses of U.S. intelligence agencies in the 1970s. Or that Senator William Proxmire, of Wisconsin, held about defense contractors in the same period. Or that Senators Sam Ervin, of North Carolina, and Howard Baker, of Tennessee, held about the Watergate scandal.

At their most tendentious, they have included spectacles like those of the House Un-American Activities Committee in the early Cold War era, under Representative Martin Dies of Texas. Or the two-year-long proceedings of the Select Committee on Benghazi, under Representative Trey Gowdy of South Carolina. Or the multi-year probe of the Obama administration’s “Fast and Furious” program, under Representative Jason Chaffetz of Utah.

In short: Congress likes to hold hearings. Right at this moment it has a situation in which many thousands of U.S. citizens died after a natural disaster; in which a similar disaster is in prospect; in which news reports have highlighted possible fraud or mismanagement in relief efforts. After the Hurricane Katrina disaster under George W. Bush, a then-Republican-controlled Congress authorized a set of bipartisan hearings into what had gone wrong.

This time?

Here is a list of House or Senate committee chairs who have announced this year that their committees will launch investigations of what happened in Puerto Rico (to spell it out, with GOP majorities, all committee chairs are Republicans):

(One Senate committee held a day of hearings about Puerto Rico ten months ago. Remember: “Fast and Furious” hearings and investigations went on for more than five years.)

And here is a list of GOP senators who are not committee chairs but have called for such hearings in response to Trump’s comments, or for public explanations from the president:

The famous "Gerrymander" cartoon, drawn by Elkanah Tisdale and published in the Boston Centinel in 1812, showing an unfair districting map drawn by Massachusetts governor Elbridge Gerry.Wikimedia

Back during the 2016 campaign, I put out 152 installments of the Trump Time Capsule series, chronicling what was known about this man at just the time the Republican party was deciding to accept (and then embrace) him as its nominee, and as the states of Michigan, Wisconsin, and Pennsylvania were delivering him an Electoral College win.

I put it that way as a reminder that if a total of under 100,000 votes in those three states had gone the other way—about 44,000 in Pennsylvania, 23,000 in Wisconsin, under 10,000 in Michigan, together totaling about 1/1500th of the national electorate—then the Electoral College result would have matched the popular vote, and Donald Trump would never have taken office. And I emphasize this point to mark an underappreciated political-consciousness shift:

Until November, 2000, no living American had any reason to view the “Electoral College versus popular vote” distinction as anything other than a quaintly antique curiosity, since the most recent time there’d been any difference in results was back in 1888. That was before cars or airplanes had been invented; when not even one U.S. household in 100 had electricity; when most Americans lived on farms; and when the right to vote was mainly limited to white males.

Through modern America’s 20th-century rise, citizens and politicians alike, Republicans and Democrats and others, assumed that, whatever the theoretical oddities of 18th-century drafting, the U.S. would in reality function like the many other democracies it inspired, and base public office on public support. But now this era’s Americans have become inured to a minority-rule system that is outside the historical norms for a country where protection of minority rights was an important founding concern.

The brand-new print issue of The Atlantic, available online today (but Subscribe!), is all about the structural contradictions in modern democracy, and why it may be more imperiled around the world than many Americans would like to think.

The U.S. version of representative democracy has always involved a careful calibration of the balance between direct-democratic popular sentiment, and deliberately less-democratic buffers. These range from the original intention of the Electoral College (to ensure that the populace didn’t choose the wrong person, and that “the office of President will never fall to the lot of any man who is not in an eminent degree endowed with the requisite qualifications”), to the Senate’s supposed function as a more deliberative balance to the curb-to-curb excesses of the House.

But modern developments have pushed the U.S. toward a predicament in which it has all the defects of a non-democratic, non-majoritarian system, but without any of the supposed benefits. Consider:

Two of the past five presidential elections—versus zero of 27, from 1892 through 1996—have gone to the candidate who lost the popular vote. Both of those majority/minority presidents—George W. Bush in 2000, and Donald Trump in 2016—governed as if they had won FDR- or Reagan-scale mandates.

The 51 senators who now make up the GOP’s governing majority represent about 30 million fewer constituents than do the 49 Democrats and independents. And thanks to gerrymandering and similar factors, a 1 percent GOP edge in House of Representatives voting in 2016—just over 63 million total votes for Republican candidates, versus just under 62 million for Democrats—translated into a 47-seat majority in the House.

These House and Senate measures are of course imperfect—vote turnout varies in contested House races versus safe seats, and I’m doing the Senate tally by assigning each Democratic or Republican senator half of his or her state’s total population. The Democratic total for the Senate comes to about 180 million people; the Republican, to about 150 million. But the figures are in the ballpark, as indicators of the gap between raw popular sentiment and the current governing balance of power. As applied to the themes of The Atlantic’s new issue, they illustrate a more and more widespread and taken-for-granted shift from minority protection to minority rule.

I mention these disproportions to introduce a Time Capsule series for the 55 days between now and the 2018 midterm elections. It will focus on the 51 people who have disproportionate power. Unlike the other 330+ million Americans, members of this group could do something directly to hold Donald Trump accountable for what nearly all of them know is his reckless unfitness for office—but who every day choose not to act.

Those 51 are, of course, the Republicans who make up Mitch McConnell’s current Senate majority. What could they do? I’ve laid out the basic case here, but in brief:

Any one senator, of majority or minority party alike, has vast power to hold up the Senate’s business in order to get his or her way—on a point that really matters to the senator. The filibuster is one obvious tool. Ever seen the old movie Mr. Smith Goes to Washington?Ever watch Rand Paul try to hold up renewal of the Patriot Act? Ever watch Ted Cruz hold the floor for 21 straight hours, to slow down Obamacare? Ever hear about Tom Cotton putting a personal hold on an ambassadorial nominee—waiting it out until the nominee died? These give you an idea of what even one senator can do—if it matters.

Any one senator, who happens to be a committee chair, is in a very strong position to: hold hearings, issue subpoenas, and generally direct public and governmental attention to an issue. In the House, think of Representative Trey Gowdy, and what he did for years with the Benghazi hearings. Think of Devin Nunes. In the Senate, think back to what J. William Fulbright, as chairman of the Senate Foreign Relations Committee, did with his hearings on the Vietnam war—a war being carried out by his own party’s president. And think then of the current chairman of that committee, Senator Bob Corker, who is not running for re-election and thus in theory has nothing to fear from any opponent, PAC, or donor.

Any two senators could decide, temporarily, to declare themselves independent and “caucus with the Democrats” and thus shift operational control of the Senate from Republican hands to the Democrats’. The chairmanship of every committee would change. So would the majority lineup in every one of those committees. Hearings, subpoenas—these could be used to call Trump to account, rather than to avert public eyes.
The two senators who had thus shifted control could still vote with Republicans on issues they cared about, from budget matters from the Kavanaugh nomination. But they could switch the machinery of this powerful part of the legislative branch back toward the check-and-balance function that at least two of them know is necessary. (At least two? Think of what Jeff Flake has said, and Bob Corker, and Ben Sasse.)

But 55 days before the election, not a one of these 51 people has dared act. Not after the “anonymous” op-ed in The New York Times; not after Bob Woodward’s Fear (and the dozen previous books to similar effect); not after … anything.

One of the senators I’ve often mentioned as an example of talking a lot, but doing very little to stand up to Trump, recently phoned me up, unhappy. “OK, it’s easy to criticize, but what exactly do you expect me to do?” he asked. I said, “Of course I’m not a legislator. But it looks from outside as if you could hold a hearing. Or hold up something the administration wanted. Or even—even—vote with the other side, if you thought the danger was really as great as you say.”

I inferred an “oh, sure” eye-roll through the phone line. The senator pointed out that steps like those would represent a total challenge to the party. The lesson I took was that if senators are going to think of themselves as party loyalists apart from anything else—apart from local concerns in their state, apart from historic positions of their own party, apart from what their own judgment said, apart from anything except what Donald Trump wants—then voters should rationally make their choices on party-ID above all. A Republican in the Congress will stand alongside Trump, whatever direction Trump goes. A Democrat may challenge him. That’s the choice.

Will anything about GOP bashfulness change in the next 55 days, or through the month-plus after that in which this Congress will still have power? Will one of them act, or even two?

I don’t know, but as with the original Time Capsules I’ll try to record this every day or two, for the long-term record. History is being made in real time.

Four years ago, the man on the left won 47.2% of the popular vote for president. When all of this year's votes are counted, the man on the right will probably come in slightly below that number.Mike Segar / Reuters

Back in May, I kicked off a Trump Time Capsule series, designed to note what we knew, when we knew it, about the man who was trying to become president. Earlier this month, just before the election, I wound up the series with installment #152.

From the beginning I imagined this as a temporary, moment-in-time project. To be honest, I wasn’t sure whether it would last beyond 10 or 15 entries. Now that the race is over and the reality of the 45th presidency is sinking in, every day I’ve received numerous notes like this one:

I saw a clip of Paul Ryan the other day, blithely dismissing concerns about Trump’s kids running his business and being part of the transition team. The thought occurred to me: This should be in the Trump Time Capsule.

Really, why did the Trump Capsule end? I know it was to record abnormal aspects of his campaign, but it was also a way to pressure and shame Republican leaders, by making them—and the public—fully cognizant of what they were supporting. I feel like we need that now. You’re still mentioning abnormal things that Trump is doing in the transition. I think it’s important for the public to know and to prod Republicans.

Also, if you would seriously consider restarting this, can make a suggestion? What about having a conservative/Republican join you in this? (Think of someone like Alan Simpson.) This would be a booster shot to the project, inoculating it against the liberal bias virus. This could give more authority to your observations. Actually, it’d be great if a group of journalists, politicians, academics from across the political spectrum could band together and speak in one voice on these issues.

The pace and audacity of Donald Trump’s departures from norms, standards, and respect-for-office indeed merit an ongoing chronicle. Meeting with a foreign head of government, without any preparation or presence from a U.S. government official, or even his own interpreter? (But with his daughter, who has no official government position but has business interests in other countries, in the room?) Talking with other foreign leaders on unsecured phones? Still stonewalling on the tax returns? And meanwhile meeting partners from his operations in India, in his role as president-elect? Clutching his pearls when his running mate is booed, after all the spleen he has vented in public? And so on.

Someone should chronicle these things, but not me, at least not single-handed. Developments:

I have another, very different journalistic project coming up that represents my own reckoning of how I can best contribute to the next stage of America’s challenge and evolution;

Precisely because so much is coming so fast, for sustainability this needs to be a multi-person, shared-labor project. TheAtlantic is considering the best way it could launch and maintain such an effort. Stay tuned, and feel free to send any suggestions to hello@theatlantic.com.

In the meantime, please check out, follow, and contribute to a very interesting Time Capsule project by @motocollard, which you can read about on Medium. It’s a spreadsheet account rather than an explanatory narrative, but it serves the crucial function of noting things down as they occur.

My respects and support to the many people who, in their roles as citizens and family members and in their working lives, are reflecting on the best course ahead. I’ll keep you updated on what TheAtlantic is planning on this front. (And meanwhile, as always, please Subscribe! Seriously, supporting publications whose reporting you value is newly significant. Plus: the perfect gift!)

Five and a half months ago, as Donald Trump effectively clinched the Republican nomination, I thought it would be worth keeping track day-by-day of what the American public knew about Trump while it was deciding whether he would become its next president. Thus the Trump Time Capsule series, which began with installments #1 through #3 on May 23, and comes to an end with #152 today.

The main idea was to chronicle what was different about Trump: Norm-changing, unprecedented statements or positions or revelations that would have stopped any previous candidate but that did not impede him.

As I look back over these unfolding stories, I see at least 40 or 50 that would have had that campaign-ending potential in any previous year. The mocking of first John McCain and then the Captain Khan family? The “Mexican judge”? The “grab ’em by the pussy” Access Hollywood tape and subsequent complaints? The de-facto admission that he’s paid no taxes, and the trail of fraud and buncombe left by his businesses and “charities”? The refusal to provide tax information at all? The disprovable-even-as-he-said-them series of lies? The ever-more evident intrusions on his behalf by a foreign government? “She should be in jail”? “It’s all rigged folks, I tell you”? I alone?

To put these into perspective, just think back to the comparatively pipsqueak “scandals” of a more innocent time: Whether Sarah Palin really read newspapers. Whether Barack Obama called some people “bitter.” Whether Mitt Romney thought 47 percent of the public might be freeloading. Whether Rick Perry had to leave the race because he forgot one of his talking points in a brain-freeze on stage. Whether Dan Quayle could spell “potatoe.” Whether Al Gore exaggerated his role as a founder of the internet. Whether the young George Bush had had a DUI. The chagrin these episodes caused to their victims is almost touching. The candidates’ embarrassment indicated that they believed there was a standard in public life they needed to live up to.

***

This cycle’s only “scandal” that fits the pre-existing scale is the Hillary Clinton email saga, which has been ludicrously exaggerated by adversary outlets (Breitbart / Fox) and by “mainstream” media (most cable TV, too often the NYT) to the point where many voters assume that it’s on a par with, say, Donald Trump’s reckless comments about nuclear weapons or treaties or rule-of-law, his deceptions about his finances, his long record with women, his numberless provable lies.

Hillary Clinton’s management of her email server was a mistake, which probably reflects something more general about her—just as other similar-scaled mistakes by other candidates in the past reflected more generally on them. But there is no sane argument that it has deserved even one tenth the press attention it has received this year. As Matt Yglesias points out in a new Vox item, TV coverage this cycle, in aggregate, spent more airtime on the email “scandal” than on all policy matters combined.

No one looking back on the America of 2016 will think that the real question its voters should have been grappling with was how Hillary Clinton handled her email. But TV has told us more about this issue than about racial tensions and racial justice, economic opportunity and economic stagnation, immigration, education, military spending and military commitments, relations with China or India or Russia or Mexico, or [name your six other top real-world concerns]. And oh, yes, the prospects of coping with the threat to civic and economic order posed by climate change.

As Bernie Sanders said a year ago, the “American people are sick and tired of hearing about your damn emails.” But hear about them, nonstop, is what the American people have done.

(There’s a parallel to press coverage in the 2000 campaign that I won’t take the time to spell out right now. Essentially, the minor annoyances of Al Gore’s persona were presented as equally important as the policy views the Bush-Cheney team would bring into office.)

***

So this chronicle ends as tens of millions of early votes have already been cast; with just one weekend separating us from official election day; and with all the information anyone could want already on record about these two candidates.

We know the choice we are making. People who are standing with Trump are doing so with eyes wide open. (Of course so are people who are standing with Hillary Clinton. But as The Atlantic argued in its editorial endorsing her, her strengths and weaknesses are within the range we have seen from most past presidents. Trump’s are outside the known range.)

As an envoi, for election-weekend reading with implications that touch the Clinton-Trump choice but go far beyond, I leave you with:

David Frum, in The Atlantic, with the conservative case for a Clinton vote. (“The lesson Trump has taught is not only that certain Republican dogmas have passed out of date, but that American democracy itself is much more vulnerable than anyone would have believed only 24 months ago.”)

Conor Friedersdorf, also a conservative, also in The Atlantic, on the perils of false-equivalent thinking. (“The Democratic nominee’s shortcomings should not blind voters to the catastrophe they’d invite by electing her cruel, undisciplined, erratic opponent.”)

Michael Gerson, like David Frum a one-time White House speechwriter for George W. Bush, in The Washington Post. (“The single most frightening, anti-democratic phrase of modern presidential history came in Trump’s convention speech: ‘I alone can fix it.’”)

A WaPo editorial on the choice that Republicans and conservatives are making, and how it should be remembered. (“When the republic was in danger, where did you stand? History will ask that question of Republican leaders who knew that Donald Trump was unfit to be commander in chief.”)

Frank Rich, in NY magazine, to similar effect. (“Charles Lindbergh was a national hero, then a fascist sympathizer. History will be just as brutal to more than a few current Republican leaders.”)

Paul Waldman in the WaPo about similar questions of values and institutions that will last beyond the election. (“There is something deeply troubling happening right now, and it goes beyond the ordinary trading of blows in a campaign season.”)

Brian Beutler, in TNR, on similar long-term challenges for democratic institutions. (“Republicans only flirted with nullification during the Obama presidency, but under a Clinton presidency we could conceivably face a full-blown crisis of one kind or another within weeks—regardless of which party controls the Senate.”)

Jonathan Chait, in New York magazine, on the changes this campaign has worked on our political system. (“Trump has revealed the convergence of two movements more extreme than anything in the free world that may yet threaten the democratic character most Americans take as their birthright.”)

Jonathan Swan of The Hill on emerging Republican calls to stop considering Supreme Court nominees at all, until the next Republican president wins. (“The Heritage Foundation, a group that enjoys significant sway on the right ... wants Republicans to get comfortable making the case that the court can function just fine with eight justices. ”)

Katy Tur, of NBC, on what it has been like to have Trump call her out by name for the derision of the crowd at his mass rallies. (This is a video, so I’m not pulling a quote, but it is quite sobering to watch.)

Wayne Barrett, long of the Village Voice and the NY Daily News, writing in The Daily Beast about the apparent alliance of Trump supporters Rudy Giuliani and James Kallstrom with pro-Trump factions within the FBI, leading to the last-minute email leaks. (“Fox is the pipeline for the fifth column inside the bureau, a battalion that says it’s doing God’s work, chasing justice against those who are obstructing it, while, in fact, it’s doing GOP work, even on the eve of a presidential election.”)

***

Let’s hope that starting on November 9 we can look back on this saga with chastened wonder about how close Trump came, and with cautionary guidance about the next steps toward self-governing reform.

This story is still in the “unnamed sources say...” category, though it’s by an experienced and reputable reporter, Eamon Javers. Like everything else in these chaotic final days of this unendurable campaign, its full implications are impossible to know while the news is still unfolding.

But at face value the report underscores the depth of the bad judgment that James Comey displayed last week. It suggests that the director of the FBI knew, reflected upon, and was deterred by the possible election-distorting effects of releasing information early this month about Russian attempts to tamper with the upcoming election. Better to err on the side of not putting the FBI’s stamp on politically sensitive allegations—even though, as Javers’s source contends, Comey believed the allegations of Russian interference to be true:

According to the [unnamed former FBI] official, Comey agreed with the conclusion the intelligence community came to: “A foreign power was trying to undermine the election. He believed it to be true, but was against putting it out before the election.” Comey’s position, this official said, was “if it is said, it shouldn’t come from the FBI, which as you’ll recall it did not.”

That was at the beginning of October. But at the end of the month, three weeks closer to the election, he manifestly was not deterred by the implications of his announcement about the Abedin/Weiner emails. And this was even though, by all accounts, he did not know what they contained or even whether the emails were new. (As opposed to duplicates of what the FBI had already seen.)

The news of this is still in flux. I’m noting here just to mark its appearance more or less in real-time.

***

We all have another week to get through. In theory, James Comey has seven more years in charge of the FBI.

—Before 2006, use of a Senate filibuster to block legislation or nominations was an occasional tool-of-the-minority, not a routine practice. Now it has become so routine and, well, normalized that a story in our leading newspaper can matter-of-factly say, “It actually takes 60 votes to bring a Supreme Court nomination to the Senate floor.” Actually it takes 60 votes only if there is a filibuster, which didn’t use to be normal. Inconceivable as it now seems, three of Ronald Reagan’s nominees—Justices Scalia, Kennedy, and O’Connor—were approved unanimously. Most Democrats in the Senate disagreed with some or all of their views. Not a single Democrat voted against them.

—Before February of this year, the universal assumption was that a sitting president’s nominations for the Supreme Court would be considered, although of course they might be voted down. But before the sun had set on the day of Antonin Scalia’s death, Mitch McConnell had made clear that the Senate would not consider any nomination from the 44th president, and since then John McCain and others have suggested that, depending on who becomes the 45th president, her nominations might not be considered either. (For historic reference you can see an official list here, showing relatively prompt consideration up-or-down of previous nominees.)

—Before this year, the norm through the post-Watergate era was that any major-party presidential nominee would make tax-return information public, in enough time before the election for voters to consider the implications of income sources, debts, donations, and other entanglements. Donald Trump has flatly refused, and his own party’s members barely bother to mention it anymore.

—Before this summer, sitting Supreme Court justices, no matter how evident their partisan leanings, avoided publicly taking sides in upcoming elections. Ruth Bader Ginsburg ignored that norm by saying in July how much she hoped Donald Trump did not become president. To her credit, and in contrast to these other cases, within a few days she belatedly honored the importance of this norm by apologizing for her remarks.

***

The official rules didn’t change in these circumstances. The norms—that is, the expectation of what you “should” do, what you “really have to do,” what is the “right thing” to do, even if the letter of the law doesn’t spell it out—have changed. For its survival, a democracy depends on norms. That’s why the shift matters.

And that is the context in which I think about James Comey’s plunge into electoral politics, with his announcement about whatever “new” Clinton-related email information the FBI may or may not have found.

No one knows what this will mean for the election. Millions of people have already voted; in the nine days until official election day there’s not enough time to fully vet and consider what Comey may have found. Will the announcement re-energize Hillary Clinton’s supporters, making them worry that the race may be tightening again? Depress them? Motivate team Trump? Bolster the “they’re all terrible” case for third-party candidates?

We don’t know. But anyone experienced in politics, as Comey obviously is, would have known for dead certain that his intrusion would change the process in a way that cannot be undone. This is apparently what other officials in the FBI and Justice Department were telling Comey before he took this step. Two former deputy attorneys general—Jamie Gorelick, who served under Bill Clinton, and Larry Thompson, who served under George W. Bush—made that point in a new WashingtonPost essay that lambastes Comey for his self-indulgent decision (emphasis added):

Decades ago, the department decided that in the 60-day period before an election, the balance should be struck against even returning indictments involving individuals running for office, as well as against the disclosure of any investigative steps. The reasoning was that, however important it might be for Justice to do its job, and however important it might be for the public to know what Justice knows, because such allegations could not be adjudicated, such actions or disclosures risked undermining the political process. A memorandum reflecting this choice has been issued every four years by multiple attorneys general for a very long time, including in 2016. ...

They conclude that this move was so selfish on Comey’s part, potentially protecting him at the cost of broader institutional destruction:

He may well have been criticized after the fact had he not advised Congress of the investigative steps that he was taking. But it was his job — consistent with the best traditions of the Department of Justice — to make the right decision and take that criticism if it came. ...

As it stands, we now have real-time, raw-take transparency taken to its illogical limit, a kind of reality TV of federal criminal investigation. Perhaps worst of all, it is happening on the eve of a presidential election. It is antithetical to the interests of justice, putting a thumb on the scale of this election and damaging our democracy.

If either Thompson or Gorelick had been at the Justice Department now, neither he nor she would have been able to prevent Comey from making his announcement. That is, they couldn’t rely on rules. But they are arguing that he should not have done it. He should have foreseen the damage he would do, and spared a frayed democracy these destructive effects.

***

Last week I mentioned the ongoing cultural/“norms-enforcing” challenges that had plagued the Philippines, which I’d written about back at the end of the Marcos era in a piece called “A Damaged Culture.” The rules by which the Philippine Republic is governed are fine. A big problem involved norms—the things that powerful people did, just because they could get away with it.

The rules of American governance are still more or less OK, despite the increasing mismatch between the 18th-century structural assumptions built into the Constitution and the realities of 21st-century life. It’s time to worry about the norms.

This is an item I wrote last night but was too busy to look over and check this morning, so I didn’t post it. Then I was in meetings all day. I’m posting it now with a new first paragraph in the wake of today’s announcement from FBI director James Comey about “re-opening” the email investigation into Hillary Clinton. Otherwise I think the main point still stands.

New intro: Are these extra emails that James Comey has found likely to contain a criminal or national-security bombshell that was not in the thousands of emails the FBI has already reviewed? Anything is possible, but my guess is no. Is this announcement, which is so certain to roil the news through this weekend, likely to change the fundamentals in the election and give Trump the edge? Again anything could happen, but again my guess is no.

But apart from anything it ends up telling us about Comey, the episode does illustrate something about candidates in general, and Clintons in particular, and about the process of learning in politics. Follow along with me if you will (now back to pre-Comey version of the post):

***

Bill Clinton was overall a successful and very popular president. If he had been eligible to run for a third term, he would have won. If his relations with Al Gore were such that Gore would have welcomed his campaign support (as Hillary Clinton now welcomes that of the Obamas), it would probably have made enough difference—in New Hampshire, in Tennessee, above all in Florida—to have spared the country the recount nightmare and Bush v. Gore and put Gore in office.

I voted for Bill Clinton in 1992 and 1996, and would have voted for him again in 2000.

And yet, I will never understand or excuse the recklessness and indiscipline with which he put so much at risk through sexual misbehavior. He risked his presidency (which survived), his successor’s chances (which did not), his historic legacy, and of course his marriage.

When it comes to Bill Clinton, it is possible simultaneously to think, He was very good at what he did. And to ask, Why oh why was he so reckless?

Because of arguments like those the Atlantic laid out in its unusual editorial, I believe that she is beyond question the right choice in this election. Much of the reason involves her opponent, and the unacceptable ignorance, intolerance, and instability he has come to represent. Part of the reason is her own vast experience and knowledge, and the bulletproof demeanor she displayed most recently in the debates. Based on what she did in her eight years in the Senate, four years as Secretary of State, and the past few years on the campaign trail, we have an idea of the day-by-day competence and steadiness she would bring to the presidency.

And yet. The latest crop of stolen Wikileaks emails brings up the counterpart to the question about her husband. Why oh why did she make such a deal about withholding the transcripts of her paid speeches—given that the contents, once they (inevitably) leaked, were so anodyne? Why oh why didn’t she just dump out preemptively whatever there might have been to know about her email server, given that one way or another it was bound to trickle out? (This is the question that John Podesta and Neera Tanden apparently asked when they learned about it 18 months ago.) Why oh why, given that she was so likely to run again for the White House and knew about the industry devoted to discrediting her, were there so many gray-zone choices about paid speeches and foundation gifts that have turned into headaches now?

“Headaches” is also a crucial word, since the speech-and-foundation “scandals” appear so far to be all smoke, no fire. Indeed these seem to be classic illustrations of the “it’s not the crime, it’s the cover-up” maxim. In the case of Donald Trump and his still-withheld tax returns, it’s probably the reverse. He is willing to take the heat on the cover-up, because whatever is in those returns would be worse. In the Clintons’ case, so far there is absolutely no provable case (that I’ve seen) of actual quid-pro-quo or payoff. That’s why the news stories are all about “appearance” and “questions” and “clouds.”

This is not nearly as egregious as her husband’s recklessness. But it’s similar in being unnecessary, and self-inflicted. Perhaps the Clinton-camp thinking was fatalistic: Opponents are going to go crazy about something. Look at birtherism! Look at Benghazi! So there is no point in being extra-careful, since opponents will find a reason to hold endless hearings anyway. Still ...

***

Now, the payoff. As I argued back in installment #146, there is a positive side to Hillary Clinton’s seeming awareness that she is not a “natural” political talent like her husband or Barack Obama. The benefit is that (as is obvious) she works, and (as should become obvious) she improves.

She has dramatically improved as a speaker, as shown at the Al Smith dinner. She now freely says that she was wrong in supporting the Iraq war—and while her judgments are still more hawkish than Obama’s, whose original opening against her in 2008 was their difference on Iraq, her views on foreign policy seemed tempered by the Iraq mistake.

Thus the hope for her administration, assuming she wins: To recognize that her greatest self-inflicted damage in the campaign came from an instinct toward secrecy and a protective palace guard. And, as the nation should hope, to learn from this mistake, as she has learned from others.

John Kerry, with Bruce Springsteen at a campaign event in Ohio 12 years ago today. This was a few days before Kerry narrowly lost Ohio and thus the presidential race to George W. Bush. What Donald Trump has said about elections as this campaign nears its end is dramatically different from what other candidates including Kerry have said at comparable stages.Reuters

Donald Trump was of course “joking” when he said yesterday in Toledo, Ohio, that “we should just cancel the election and just give it to Trump, right? What are we even having it for?”

In the clip below, you can see what we’ve come to recognize as a classic Trump-rally two-track message. It’s a mixture of claims that would be outrageous if taken seriously, with a half-joking affect that lets Trump suggest that he’s not being serious at all. As a result, he can have it both ways. People who want to, can take this as something Trump is really supporting. (This is a variation of, “A lot of people are saying....”) But if anyone gets huffy and calls Trump on it, he can say, “What kind of dummy are you? Of course that was a joke!”

So, it’s a joke. But it’s a joke that connects with other non-joke Trump statements deeply at odds with the very process of democratic transfer of power. For instance, “I alone” can save us (a refrain from the convention onward). Or, “It’s rigged, folks, rigged” (of recent months). Or “I’ll keep you in suspense” (at the final debate, about accepting the vote outcome.)

Why do all of these deserve notice? Because other nominees just do not say things like this. Really, this is new—and different, and dangerous, and worth recording as it happens to remember when this election has passed.

***

Even when under pressure, even when telling themselves that the deck is unfairly stacked, other American public figures have been careful to pay public homage to the electoral process and the need to accept its outcome. Please consider these two examples:

John McCain, 2008. Trump’s remarks were in Toledo yesterday, October 27. Eight years ago on that same date, on October 27, 2008, McCain was also in western Ohio, in Dayton—swing states are swing states. Like Trump right now, McCain was far enough behind in enough polls in enough states to know that he was likely to lose. But here is the way he talked about the election and its outcome on his October 27:

Let me give you the state of the race today. There's eight days to go. We're a few points down. The pundits have written us off, just like they've done before. My opponent is working out the details with Speaker Pelosi and Senator Reid of their plans to raise your taxes, increase spending, and concede defeat in Iraq. He's measuring the drapes, and he's planned his first address to the nation for before the election. I guess I'm old fashioned about these things I prefer to let the voters weigh in before presuming the outcome.

What America needs now is someone who will finish the race before the starting the victory lap ... someone who will fight to the end, and not for himself but for his country.

I have fought for you most of my life, and in places where defeat meant more than returning to the Senate. There are other ways to love this country, but I've never been the kind to back down when the stakes are high.

I know you're worried. America is a great country, but we are at a moment of national crisis that will determine our future….

I'm an American. And I choose to fight. Don't give up hope. Be strong. Have courage. And fight.

Fight for a new direction for our country. Fight for what's right for America.

Fight to clean up the mess of corruption, infighting and selfishness in Washington.

Fight to get our economy out of the ditch and back in the lead.

Fight for the ideals and character of a free people.

Fight for our children's future.

Fight for justice and opportunity for all.

Stand up to defend our country from its enemies.

Stand up, stand up, stand up and fight. America is worth fighting for. Nothing is inevitable here. We never give up. We never quit. We never hide from history. We make history.

Now, let's go win this election and get this country moving again.

“Let’s go win this election.” Versus “Let’s cancel the election.”

***

John Kerry 2004. Four years before that, Kerry knew he was in a very tight race against George W. Bush, which of course he eventually lost. I don’t see any online transcripts of what he said on his October 27, but here is what he said in Orlando, Florida, on October 29, 2004, which by that year’s calendar was only four days before the election:

In four days, we can change the course of our country. I ask for your vote and I ask for your help. When you go to the polls next Tuesday, bring your friends, your family, your neighbors. No one can afford to stand on the sidelines or sit this one out.

In four days, this campaign will end. The election will be in your hands. If you believe we need a fresh start in Iraq ... if you believe we can create and keep good jobs here in America ... if you believe we need to get health care costs under control ... if you believe in the promise of stem cell research ... if you believe our deficits are too high and we're too dependent on Mideast oil ...then I ask you to join me and together we'll change America.

I see an America of rising opportunity. And I believe hope, not fear is our future.

A woman in Ohio said something about a month ago. I didn't get to meet her, but she grabbed one of my people at the end of an event and she said: "You be sure to get a hold of the Senator and give him this message for me." And the message was, "Senator, we've got your back!"

Give me the chance to make you proud. Give me the chance to lift our country up. And every day I'll look you in the eye and be able to say, "I've got your back!" Four days to change America. Let's go out and make it happen!

“Let’s make it happen” “The election is in your hands.” Versus, “it’s all rigged, they’re going to steal it in the cities, you know what I’m talking about.”

***

McCain and Kerry, both fighting hard, both destined to lose. Both aware even as they gave those speeches (though McCain more than Kerry) that they might lose. But still talking up rather than down to the voters, as citizens. Both offering ultimate respect to the process by which a democracy chooses its leaders and transfers power from one to the next.

We have heard so much of the other sort of talk from Trump that many people have grown inured to it. It shouldn’t be taken for granted. Of all the norms Trump has broken, including notably the expectation that nominees will provide tax information, his contempt for the democratic process may be the most dangerous.

The “responsible” leaders who still stand with him need to recognize what they are supporting. The rest of the public needs to get out and vote.

With only 13 full days to go until the election, with many millions of early votes already cast, and with apparent trends all running against Donald Trump, it’s time to begin tapering off the Time Capsules™.

Pro or con, everyone knows as much about this candidate as anyone could need for making a choice. The accumulating public record about Trump’s thoughts and temperament, while the country was deciding whether to make him its president, is what I’ve been trying to keep up with in this series, starting five months (!) ago.

So with the proviso that I’m now looking for developments unusual even for Trump—not just another raft of misstatements, not “just” another charge of financial or personal misconduct, not just another illustration of the speared-fish wriggling of Republicans like Paul Ryan impaled upon their support for Trump—here is today’s video-heavy installment.

***

First, an unexpected side of Trump for those who are awash in his 2016-campaign persona. In my story about debates in last month’s issue, I mentioned how brutally simple Trump’s language has been in campaign speeches, interviews, and debates. Simple words, simple sentences, simple thoughts. One surprising exception, as I mentioned back in installment #10, was Trump’s impromptu and nuanced discussion of the tragedy of Harambe, the now-famous gorilla shot to death at the Cincinnati Zoo.

Here’s another, more extended example: Trump discussing the symbolism of “Rosebud” in Citizen Kane, in a clip by the famed Errol Morris (Fog of War etc) nearly a decade ago.

I’d seen this clip long ago, but was reminded of it today by Eric Redman. On re-viewing, I find it utterly absorbing. For any rich person to say these things about the movie, and its theme of the isolation of wealth, would be something. But from the Trump we now (think we) know, the clip is more like astonishing. The man we see here seems … introspective. Self-aware. You can start at time 2:00 to get a sample:

In my 2004 Atlantic piece about the presidential debates between incumbent George W. Bush and his challenger John Kerry, I discussed a puzzling aspect of Bush’s oratorical record. In his time on the national stage, from the beginning of his presidential campaign in 1999 to the end of his presidency, George W. Bush was famous for his mis-phrasing and malapropisms. (“Rarely is the question asked, is our children learning?” etc.)

But back in 1994, when he ran against the famously silver-tongued Ann Richards for governor of Texas, Bush was a very good speaker! He actually bested her in their debates (and then the election) and showed fluent command of details and phrasing.

What happened to Bush between 1994 and 1999? I don’t know. But whatever was underway—deliberate folksy-izing, unintended shift—seems also to have affected Trump in the decade since Errol Morris’s clip was shot.

***

The other famous video, which has bounced around for a while but attracted new attention this past week, is Trump’s heartfelt testimonial in 2008 about the virtues of both Bill and Hillary Clinton. One version is below—with the bonus of being followed by an infomercial for Trump Steaks! Other similar statements are here, here, and here.

Here is a related video:

What does this all mean? I don’t know. But the tone—the bearing, the gravitas, the timbre—of the earlier Trump in these samples is quite different from the man before us now. (On the other hand, the Trump of the “grab them by ..” Access Hollywood tape was of roughly this era too.)

Might this other Trump have had a better chance? I no longer can even pretend to guess, or judge.

Eric Trump yesterday, a scion and thus namesake of the new hotel brand.Chris Keane / Reuters

Late to this for family reasons, but catching up on an actually astonishing development:

Through the campaign, Donald Trump at times seemed more intent on promoting his business interests than in advancing a political campaign. He took time off this summer to fly to Scotland and tout the opening of a new Trump golf resort. He turned what was billed as a major campaign announcement into a promo for his new DC hotel. A surprisingly large share of the money he’s raised for his campaign’s expenditures has gone to his own businesses (notably Mar-a-Lago).

That is why today’s story, in Travel and Leisure, is so piquant and O. Henry-like. What Trump might have imagined would further burnish his personal brand may in fact be poisoning it. T&L reports that Trump’s new hotels will no longer carry his name!!! Instead they’ll be called “Scion.” Groan, given the actual scions, but fascinating in its own way. From T&L:

Amidst reports that occupancy rates at Trump Hotels have slipped this election season, the company has announced that new brand hotels will no longer bear the Trump name.

The newest line of luxury hotels, geared towards millennials, will be called Scion, the company said.

Wait till this sinks in: the name that Donald Trump thought was his greatest asset, the basis of his claims of wealth, is now such commercial baggage that they’re keeping it off his buildings.

But I think he deserves long-term attention as probably the first “public” person to take personal and commercial risks in a forthright stance against Trump. Shortly after Trump’s “they’re sending rapists” speech, José Andrés said he would not open a restaurant, as previously agreed, in Trump’s new DC hotel. Trump immediately sued him back.

Would that some part of José Andrés’s backbone had been transplanted into the Speaker of the House.

Joining a few friends for a casual dinner last night.Jonathan Ernst / Reuters

“Light” events are some of the heaviest lifting in political life. Comedy is hard to begin with, and for the kinds of people involved in politics, jokes are vastly more difficult to write or deliver than “substantive” remarks. And for presidents or presidential aspirants, we’re talking about a special kind of joke. These eminent figures need to come across as “modest” and self-deprecatory, but only up to a humble-brag point. (That is, just enough so the audience and reviewers will say, “Oh, isn’t it charming that he’s willing to laugh at himself!”) Real comedy often includes a “what the hell!” willingness to say something that will genuinely shock or offend, which national politicians can’t afford to do. The White House Correspondents Dinner, the Gridiron, the Al Smith Dinner—any event like this is hard (as David Litt, a former member of the Obama speechwriting team, explains in a very nice item just now).

But you’ve got to do it. And to seem to “enjoy” it. And to maintain the closest simulacrum you can to a “genuine” smile or laugh, when others are making fun of you.

Last night at the Al Smith Dinner, which is the subject of Litt’s essay, Donald Trump could perform only a tiny handful of the basic moves. In the process he spectacularly reinforced a crucial point about himself, even as Hillary Clinton was demonstrating an under-appreciated implication of one of her familiar traits. Let’s go to the tape and see what he didn’t do, and what she did.

***

The clip below is cued to begin as Trump takes the stage, nearly an hour and a half into the whole elephantine pageant. (Reflect for a moment: you’re sitting there for the first 90 minutes, eating while in formal wear and on camera and purporting to socialize, realizing that a high-stakes performance is ahead at the end of the night.)

For the first eight or ten minutes, things are going more or less OK for Trump. As you can see:

Around time 1:25:45, he begins a semi-obvious but good-spirited riff on self-deprecation itself. (Modesty is my greatest quality, etc.)

Around 1:26:30, he gives a kind of charming routine about his “perfectly formed hands.” Bonus here: Through the GOP primaries, he seemed to have absolutely zero sense of humor about his petite digits. This is progress!

Around 1:30:45, a mean-edged—but nothing like what’s coming—bit about Hillary Clinton and Rosie O’Donnell.

Then, starting at 1:32:00, a genuinely funny joke about his wife Melania’s plagiarized speech. This was perfectly delivered and would count as a classic of public-event self-deprecation—except that he’s not making fun of himself. He’s making fun of her. (And then has her stand up in a way that sort of compounds the offense, although she takes it graciously.)

From 1:34:00 onwards he goes off the rails, and seems to imagine that he is at a true-believer rally where the crowd is shouting “Lock her up!” In fact, this crowd, at a religious-charity event, in what he thinks of as his town, starts to boo.

***

For convenience here is the same clip again, this time cued to begin when Hillary Clinton takes the stage around time 1:41:30. I’ve watched her presentation twice now and think it deserves a careful look. Some guideposts:

The first minute or so is standard “earnest” intro. But then:

At 1:43:00 an effortless, quick offhand remark about “my rigorous nap schedule.” This is straight from Self-Deprecatory Political Humor 101. You show awareness of a wisecrack about you, and you also show that you can just laugh about it. She follows it with a not-quite-as-artful (because it’s not quite as funny to her) crack that she usually “charges a lot” for this kind of speech.

Starting at 1:44:20, a nice little sequence of religio-political-gender humor, first with the “miracle” of her getting through the debates, and building to the “stained-glass ceiling” (without spelling out that she is of course talking about the patriarchal Catholic church).

Almost immediately after that, following an interlude for a mayor-versus-governor New York politico joke, at 1:45:15 onward she has another very artful minute-long stretch. In quick succession it touches these items: “baskets” of people; pantsuits; Trump’s interrupting her at the debates; and “peaceful transfer of power.” Anyone who has labored in these fields will recognize this passage as both skillfully written and impressively delivered.

At 1:47:00, the “Statue of Liberty is a four, maybe five tops” line.

Then at 1:47:45, “And I’ve been to three!” which again is Self-Deprecation 101.

At 1:49:35, a joke at her own expense (“This counts as a press conference, right?”) followed immediately by one at Trump’s expense (it’s too bad that Mike Bloomberg isn’t speaking, “because we’d all be curious what a [real] billionaire has to say.” Bada-bing!) And right after that the meanest but most deserved joke of the entire speech, about Rudy Giuliani. The cut-away to a glowering Giuliani shows that he has even worse poker-face control than Trump.

At 1:51:00, what starts as classic self-deprecation, about Trump’s call for a drug test before the debate, and builds to a surprisingly serious “joke.” I won’t spoil or belabor this, but it’s worth watching for yourself.

Skipping over some other riffs, including a nice one about the “Muslim ban,” we come to my favorite little morsel of deadpan delivery. It starts at 1:53:50. The punchline involves “a hearse.”

***

What trait of Trump’s did last evening reinforce? It’s one I emphasized in my October-issue piece: that he has one speed, he is exactly and only who he is, and while he can momentarily shift registers sooner or later he comes back to one persona. That person cannot really laugh at himself, or even feign to for very long. That person is angry.

And what do we see about Hillary Clinton? That a trait of hers that is always taken for granted, and frequently sneered-about, is actually of great consequence. Namely: that she works, that she tries, that she practices, that she prepares—and as a result of all these things, she improves.

We know about the “naturals” in politics—JFK in one way, Ronald Reagan in another, each of the past two Democratic presidents, Bill Clinton and Obama, with their very different approaches. Hillary Clinton has often remarked (and no doubt rued) that she is not as “natural” or “gifted” in these public-presentation skills as Democratic presidents #44 and #42. No doubt there is enormous gendered baggage that comes along with these contrasts: the “naturally charming” FDR versus the “hard-working” Eleanor, on to the Bill/Hillary comparison now.

Conceivably Barack Obama makes his dryly effective comic appearances without “trying” as hard as Hillary Clinton has to. But she reminded us last night that what matters is the result. Presumably she tried very hard; demonstrably she did very well, while also demonstrating mastery of a skill she hadn’t displayed this clearly before (high-stakes deadpan comedy).

The most graceful performers—Federer, Jordan, Simone Biles, Fred Astaire, FDR—make the result of endless hard work seem effortless. Hillary Clinton can’t conceal the effort. But, as in the old line about Ginger Rogers, she has demonstrated command of ever more graceful moves.

***

Seventeen days and a few hours until the election. For the first time since Richard Nixon, no tax returns or plausible health information forthcoming from a major party nominee. It now appears that Paul Ryan, Mitch McConnell, and the “responsible” leadership of their party will ride out this disaster to the end, all the while contending, as they still officially do, that Donald Trump is the best choice as our next president.

With two and a half weeks to go, the debate phase of the competition is at last at its end. In real time last night I did an endless tweet-storm commentary whose beginning you can find here and that wound up this way:

Most of what I thought, I said at the time. But to summarize:

1) Predictability. To my relief, most of the expert forecasts I quoted in my debate preview piece matched what actually occurred.

The match-up really did turn out to be an extreme contrast at every level—intellectual and rhetorical styles, bearing on stage, what each candidate talked about and didn’t. The things Jane Goodall foresaw about Trump’s primate-dominance moves actually took place, when he was free to roam the stage in debate #2. As his fallen rivals from the Republican primaries had predicted, Trump faced much greater challenges in these head-to-head debates than he had in the crowded-podium prelims. Back then, he could chime in with an insult whenever he wanted and otherwise just stay quiet and roll his eyes. In the head-to-head round, especially the last debate, he struggled to fill his allotted time with details on any topic and fell back on slogans from his stump speech. Also predictably, Hillary Clinton was as prepared as she could be and barely put a foot wrong.

Most impressively of all, Hillary Clinton’s 100-percent-completely-foreseeable “Take the bait, please!!” strategy—foreseeable enough that I said in the article that this is what she would do—worked marvelously well.

From the opening moments of the first debate, she sent out a a nonstop stream of provocations, subtle or obvious, all tailored to wounding Trump’s vanities. The topics ranged from his not really being rich, to being a man of the beauty-pageant world, to not paying taxes, to being a chronic liar, to generally being preposterous. Sooner or later in each debate, usually sooner, it worked! Trump simply could not resist the bait. He would go off on exactly the tirades the Clinton campaign was hoping to evoke from him. You saw it again last night: for the first 30 minutes or so, he was so stately as to seem semi-sedated. Then she began teasing him, and she got him to snap and interrupt.

So from an unprecedented and potentially unpredictable confrontation, we saw the behavior many people anticipated from each candidate. Very carefully prepped Belichick-type execution of a precise plan from one side. On the other side, wild slugging by someone who might as well have had a bucket over his head.

***

2) Moderator. Given Fox News’s stake in this race—Sean Hannity as unapologetic campaign booster for Trump, Roger Ailes drifting between the organizations—the pre-debate question about moderator Chris Wallace, of Fox, was which part of the now-split Fox consciousness he would represent. The movement-activist part, which has made Fox essentially the only “news” outlet on which Trump will appear in recent weeks? Or the actual-journalist part, as Fox’s Shep Smith and Bret Baier usually illustrate and as Megyn Kelly sometimes does—for instance, when memorably dressing down Karl Rove while the Ohio vote was being counted four years ago?

Joe Raedle / Reuters

Congrats to Wallace, who conducted most of the debate as if it were an actual interview on substance; who reminded candidates of the question he had originally asked, when they drifted afield; who (like Anderson Cooper in round two) was polite in tone while maintaining control of the discussion; and who improvised in a non-gimmicky way by ending the debate with an “unexpected” call for a brief closing statement. Of course this was one of the many contingencies Hillary Clinton had fully prepared for; of course it was one of many developments to which Donald Trump had given no advance thought. So she reeled off a practiced-seeming one-minute wrapup, and he gave what appeared to be random highlights from his rally speeches. Imagine the debate planning that would have Trump use the final few seconds of his final debate appearance thus: “Our inner cities are a disaster. You get shot walking to the store. They have no education.”

***

3) The tyranny of the “deficit nightmare.” My one criticism of Wallace’s debate-management is the one Paul Krugman lays out in more detail here. I will bet—oh, let’s say, a trillion dollars—that when someone looks back on the 2016 campaign and asks, “What’s a major long-term danger that got shockingly little attention in the campaign?” the answer is not going to be “the federal budget deficit.” But Wallace hammered on this exaggerated threat in two extended discussions. I bet that the answer is going to be climate change and sustainability in all forms. Unless I missed it, no question from any of the moderators was on this theme.

Of course public services must pay their way in the long run. But the hold that deficit-hawkery has on “respectable” discussion these days is quite remarkable.

So, for Chris Wallace: if you’d swapped even one of your deficit questions for a climate one, it would have been an even better job. Still, well done overall.

***

4) HRC’s worst moment. It occurred an hour in, when Wallace asked her a perfectly straightforward question about “pay for play” criticisms of the Clinton Foundation, and she started talking all around the topic as if she was trying to avoid the question or had something to hide. On the merits as I understand them, most of the “pay for play” with the Clinton Foundation is stuck in the realm of “lingering questions” and “gives rise to questionable appearances,” rather than of anyone having nailed down a quid-pro-quo. Smoke rather than fire. This is quite a contrast to the netherworld of the Trump “Foundation,” as David Fahrenthold of the WaPo has plumbed it. But she sounded as if she were talking around the issue, in the way her critics assume her always to do.

In context, this didn’t “matter,” because so much else was going her way, and because Trump jumped in after a minute with a standard over-the-top accusation that the Clinton Foundation was “a criminal enterprise.” This in turn gave her a chance to start talking about his objectively shady-seeming foundation. So it didn’t change the flow of this debate, but it would be better if she could resist talking this way. (Sample at end of this item, along with the full video.)

***

5) Trump’s worst moment. I was about to say there’s no contest here, but actually there is. One of his off-hand remarks was abysmal as a matter of substance; the other joins the parade of catastrophic touches of style.

The substance offense was of course Trump’s refusal to say that he would “accept” the results of the election, if he lost. The whole concept of “peaceful transfer of power” depends on the group that loses an election willingly accepting their defeat. Back in installment #143 I laid out the contrasts between Trump’s emerging stance and the previous centuries of our history. You can also read Peter Beinart on our site and TheAtlantic’slive-blog team, and practically anything else in print or online today.

And Trump’s stylistic touch? Of course it is “such a nasty woman.” It was much worse in context than in seems on the page, both because of the way he said it (hint: You’ll see it in Democratic ads) and because of what brought it on. It was in response to this from Hillary Clinton, with emphasis added to what was presented as a quick little throwaway dig:

Chris, I am on record as saying that we need to put more money into the Social Security Trust Fund. That’s part of my commitment to raise taxes on the wealthy. My Social Security payroll contribution will go up, as will Donald's, assuming he can’t figure out how to get out of it. But what we want to do is to replenish the Social Security Trust Fund...

Bait offered. Bait taken! As I’ve argued repeatedly, the temperamental demands of the presidency are even more exacting than its intellectual and physical-stamina requirements. One of our candidates repeatedly shows that he has the temperament we expect people to be growing beyond by the time they reach middle school.

For reference, here is the way the “pay to play” discussion evolved. Points to note: Wallace’s attempts to get an answer to his question; Clinton’s talking-around the question; Trump’s crude overplay of his hand:

WALLACE: Secretary Clinton, during your 2009 Senate confirmation hearing, you promised to avoid even the appearance of a conflict of interest with your dealing with the Clinton Foundation. ...

Can you really say that you kept your pledge to that Senate committee? And why isn’t what happened and what went on between you and the Clinton Foundation, why isn’t it what Mr. Trump calls pay to play?

CLINTON: Well, everything I did as secretary of state was in furtherance of our country’s interests and our values. The State Department has said that. I think that's been proven.

But I am happy, in fact I’m thrilled to talk about the Clinton Foundation, because it is a world-renowned charity and I am so proud of the work that it does. You know, I could talk for the rest of the debate—I know I don’t have the time to do that.

But just briefly, the Clinton Foundation made it possible for 11 million people around the world with HIV-AIDS to afford treatment, and that's about half all the people in the world who are getting treatment. In partnership with the American Health Association ...

WALLACE: Secretary Clinton ...

CLINTON: ... we have made environments in schools healthier for kids, including healthier lunches ...

WALLACE: Secretary Clinton, respectfully, this is—this is an open discussion.

CLINTON: Well, it is an open discussion. And you ...

WALLACE: And the specific question went to pay for play. Do you want to talk about that?

CLINTON: Well, but there is no—but there is no evidence—but there is ...

(CROSSTALK)

TRUMP: I think that it’s been very well ...

WALLACE: Let’s ask Mr. Trump.

CLINTON: There is a lot of evidence about the very good work ...

TRUMP: It’s been very well studied.

CLINTON: ... and the high rankings ...

(CROSSTALK)

WALLACE: Please let Mr. Trump speak.

TRUMP: ... and it’s a criminal enterprise, and so many people know it.

Despite the easing of taboos and the rise of hookup apps, Americans are in the midst of a sex recession.

These should be boom times for sex.

The share of Americans who say sex between unmarried adults is “not wrong at all” is at an all-time high. New cases of HIV are at an all-time low. Most women can—at last—get birth control for free, and the morning-after pill without a prescription.

If hookups are your thing, Grindr and Tinder offer the prospect of casual sex within the hour. The phrase If something exists, there is porn of it used to be a clever internet meme; now it’s a truism. BDSM plays at the local multiplex—but why bother going? Sex is portrayed, often graphically and sometimes gorgeously, on prime-time cable. Sexting is, statistically speaking, normal.

Donald Trump likes to pit elite and non-elite white people against each other. Why do white liberals play into his trap?

“I want them to talk about racism every day,” Steve Bannon, President Donald Trump’s former strategist, told The American Prospectlast year. “If the left is focused on race and identity, and we go with economic nationalism, we can crush the Democrats.”

Bannon was tapping into an old American tradition. As early as the 1680s, powerful white people were serving up racism to assuage the injuries of class, elevating the status of white indentured servants over that of enslaved black people. Some two centuries later, W. E. B. Du Bois observed that poor white people were compensated partly by a “public and psychological wage”—the “wages of whiteness,” as the historian David Roediger memorably put it. These wages pit people of different races against one another, averting a coalition based on shared economic interests.

Another big project has found that only half of studies can be repeated. And this time, the usual explanations fall flat.

Over the past few years, an international team of almost 200 psychologists has been trying to repeat a set of previously published experiments from its field, to see if it can get the same results. Despite its best efforts, the project, called Many Labs 2, has only succeeded in 14 out of 28 cases. Six years ago, that might have been shocking. Now it comes as expected (if still somewhat disturbing) news.

In recent years, it has become painfully clear that psychology is facing a “reproducibility crisis,” in which even famous, long-established phenomena—the stuff of textbooks and TED Talks—might not be real. There’s social priming, where subliminal exposures can influence our behavior. And ego depletion, the idea that we have a limited supply of willpower that can be exhausted. And the marshmallow test, where our ability to resist gratification in early childhood predicts our achievements in later life. And the facial-feedback hypothesis, which simply says that smiling makes us feel happier.

At an inaugural desert festival of yogis and spirit guides like Russell Brand, an exclusive industry grapples with consumerism, addiction, and the actual meaning of wellness.

I first felt reality shift when, at 7 a.m. on a Saturday, there was a line for a class called Body Blast Bootcamp, and I worried that there wouldn’t be enough room for everyone.

The draw to this explicitly not-fun undertaking, others in line told me, was that we would be glad to have done it when it was over. We all made it in, and the workout studio was a carpeted conference room where an Instagram-famous instructor with a microphone headset was waiting to give us high fives. “The hardest step is showing up!”

Once we started working out, a person walked around apparently taking Instagram videos, and people were not bothered by this. Another brought a mini tripod to get some shots of herself in action. There was shouting and a Coldplay house remix. Someone offered me a box of alkaline water, and I drank it because no neutral water was available.

“Rich people don’t get their own ‘better’ firefighters, or at least they aren’t supposed to.”

As multiple devastating wildfires raged across California, a private firefighting crew reportedly helped save Kanye West and Kim Kardashian’s home in Calabasas, TMZ reported this week. The successful defense of the $50 million mansion is the most prominent example of a trend that’s begun to receive national attention: for-hire firefighters protecting homes, usually on the payroll of an insurance company with a lot at risk.

The insurance companies AIG and Chubb have publicly talked about their private wildfire teams. AIG has its own “Wildfire Protection Unit,” while Chubb—and up to a dozen other insurers—contract with Wildfire Defense Systems, a Montana company that claims to have made 550 “wildfire responses on behalf of insurers,” including 255 in just the past two years. Right now in California, the company has 53 engines working to protect close to 1,000 homes.

The civil-liberties organization has taken a stand against stronger due-process protections in campus tribunals that undermines its own principles.

Last week, the NRA kept defending gun rights, the AARP kept advocating for older Americans, and the California Avocado Commission was as steadfast as ever in touting “nature’s highest achievement.” By contrast, the ACLU issued a public statement that constituted a stark, shortsighted betrayal of the organization’s historic mission: It vehemently opposed stronger due-process rights for the accused.

The matter began when Secretary of Education Betsy DeVos put forth new guidelines on how to comply with Title IX, the law that forbids colleges that receive federal funding to exclude any students, deny them benefits, or subject them to any discrimination on the basis of sex.

The most controversial changes concern what happens when a student stands accused of sexual misbehavior. “Under the new rules, schools would be required to hold live hearings and would no longer rely on a so-called single investigator model,” TheNew York Timesreports. “Accusers and students accused of sexual assault must be allowed to cross-examine each other through an adviser or lawyer. The rules require that the live hearings be conducted by a neutral decision maker and conducted with a presumption of innocence. Both parties would have equal access to all the evidence that school investigators use to determine facts of the case, and a chance to appeal decisions.” What’s more, colleges will now have the option to choose a somewhat higher evidentiary standard, requiring “clear and convincing evidence” rather than “a preponderance of the evidence” in order to establish someone’s guilt.

Their huge mounds cover an area the size of Britain, and are visible from space.

In the east of Brazil, mysterious cones of earth rise from the dry, hard-baked soil. Each of these mounds is about 30 feet wide at its base, and stands six to 13 feet tall. From the ground, with about 60 feet of overgrown land separating each mound from its neighbors, it’s hard to tell how many there are. But their true extent becomes dramatically clear from space.

Using satellite images, Roy Funch from the State University of Feira de Santana has estimated that there are about 200 million of these mounds. They’re arrayed in an uncannily regular honeycomb-like pattern. Together, they cover an area roughly the size of Great Britain or Oregon, and they occupy as much space as the Great Pyramid of Giza 4,000 times over. And this colossal feat of engineering is, according to Funch, the work of the tiniest of engineers—a species of termite called Syntermes dirus, whose workers are barely half an inch long.

Years later, many adults still pine for the days their school libraries, auditoriums, and gyms transformed into pop-up bookstores.

In the early 1980s, the world of school book fairs was “a highly competitive and very secretive industry,” according to a New York Timesarticleat the time. The fairs numbered in the thousands and spanned the United States. They were put on by a mix of organizers: A few national corporations, about 25 to 30 regional companies, and assorted bookstores.

By the 1990s, one organizer reigned: the Scholastic Corporation. Scholastic, founded in 1920 to publish books and magazines aimed at young readers, had purchased several of its smaller competitors. The company became the largest operator of children’s book fairs in the country, a title it still holds today.

But we’re not here to talk about Scholastic’s business history, and I think you know that. If you’re a young adult who attended elementary school in the United States, I’d guess that when you saw the headline on this story, something deep inside your mind cracked open. With an unmistakable pang of nostalgia,the memory of a Scholastic book fair, with all its concomitant joys, came flooding in.

At an international conference, allies grieved the loss of the United States they had believed in.

Updated at 2:50 p.m. ET on November 19, 2018

The Halifax Security Forum is designed to be a gathering of the world’s democratic countries, which are allied to protect each other. Hosted by the Canadian defense minister, the Forum’s signature is the brief videos that introduce the annual gathering. This year’s intro showed relay runners, mostly American, at the Olympics from Berlin in 1936 forward, ending in an uncertain baton handoff—a powerful metaphor for the free world’s worries about American leadership in the age of Trump.*

The Halifax Forum, occurring just after President Donald Trump unleashed yet another petulant tirade against Germany and France that culminated in the unseemly taunt that Parisians were speaking German until the U.S. intervened in World Wars I and II, had a funereal feel this year. Allies are grieving the loss of an America they believed in, as it sinks in that they cannot rely on us any longer.

Journalists have become complicit in spreading the president’s falsehoods and conspiracy theories. Here’s how they can do better.

The news media today face an epistemic crisis: how to publish the president’s commentary without amplifying his fabrications and conspiracy theories.

One flashpoint came several weeks ago, when President Donald Trump told Axios reporters that he planned to use an executive order to end birthright citizenship because, as he put it, “we’re the only country in the world where a person comes in and has a baby, and the baby is essentially a citizen.” On Twitter, Axios CEO and co-founder Jim VandeHei wrote, “Exclusive: Trump to terminate birthright citizenship.”

As many journalists quickly pointed out, this was multilayered malarkey. The president was proposing an unconstitutional means of obliterating the Fourteenth Amendment on the basis of a falsehood; more than two dozen countries in the Western Hemisphere have unrestricted jus soli laws, like the U.S. Axios was treating as fact a haphazard plan, in search of an impossible outcome, justified by a false assertion.

Despite the easing of taboos and the rise of hookup apps, Americans are in the midst of a sex recession.

These should be boom times for sex.

The share of Americans who say sex between unmarried adults is “not wrong at all” is at an all-time high. New cases of HIV are at an all-time low. Most women can—at last—get birth control for free, and the morning-after pill without a prescription.

If hookups are your thing, Grindr and Tinder offer the prospect of casual sex within the hour. The phrase If something exists, there is porn of it used to be a clever internet meme; now it’s a truism. BDSM plays at the local multiplex—but why bother going? Sex is portrayed, often graphically and sometimes gorgeously, on prime-time cable. Sexting is, statistically speaking, normal.

Donald Trump likes to pit elite and non-elite white people against each other. Why do white liberals play into his trap?

“I want them to talk about racism every day,” Steve Bannon, President Donald Trump’s former strategist, told The American Prospectlast year. “If the left is focused on race and identity, and we go with economic nationalism, we can crush the Democrats.”

Bannon was tapping into an old American tradition. As early as the 1680s, powerful white people were serving up racism to assuage the injuries of class, elevating the status of white indentured servants over that of enslaved black people. Some two centuries later, W. E. B. Du Bois observed that poor white people were compensated partly by a “public and psychological wage”—the “wages of whiteness,” as the historian David Roediger memorably put it. These wages pit people of different races against one another, averting a coalition based on shared economic interests.

Another big project has found that only half of studies can be repeated. And this time, the usual explanations fall flat.

Over the past few years, an international team of almost 200 psychologists has been trying to repeat a set of previously published experiments from its field, to see if it can get the same results. Despite its best efforts, the project, called Many Labs 2, has only succeeded in 14 out of 28 cases. Six years ago, that might have been shocking. Now it comes as expected (if still somewhat disturbing) news.

In recent years, it has become painfully clear that psychology is facing a “reproducibility crisis,” in which even famous, long-established phenomena—the stuff of textbooks and TED Talks—might not be real. There’s social priming, where subliminal exposures can influence our behavior. And ego depletion, the idea that we have a limited supply of willpower that can be exhausted. And the marshmallow test, where our ability to resist gratification in early childhood predicts our achievements in later life. And the facial-feedback hypothesis, which simply says that smiling makes us feel happier.

At an inaugural desert festival of yogis and spirit guides like Russell Brand, an exclusive industry grapples with consumerism, addiction, and the actual meaning of wellness.

I first felt reality shift when, at 7 a.m. on a Saturday, there was a line for a class called Body Blast Bootcamp, and I worried that there wouldn’t be enough room for everyone.

The draw to this explicitly not-fun undertaking, others in line told me, was that we would be glad to have done it when it was over. We all made it in, and the workout studio was a carpeted conference room where an Instagram-famous instructor with a microphone headset was waiting to give us high fives. “The hardest step is showing up!”

Once we started working out, a person walked around apparently taking Instagram videos, and people were not bothered by this. Another brought a mini tripod to get some shots of herself in action. There was shouting and a Coldplay house remix. Someone offered me a box of alkaline water, and I drank it because no neutral water was available.

“Rich people don’t get their own ‘better’ firefighters, or at least they aren’t supposed to.”

As multiple devastating wildfires raged across California, a private firefighting crew reportedly helped save Kanye West and Kim Kardashian’s home in Calabasas, TMZ reported this week. The successful defense of the $50 million mansion is the most prominent example of a trend that’s begun to receive national attention: for-hire firefighters protecting homes, usually on the payroll of an insurance company with a lot at risk.

The insurance companies AIG and Chubb have publicly talked about their private wildfire teams. AIG has its own “Wildfire Protection Unit,” while Chubb—and up to a dozen other insurers—contract with Wildfire Defense Systems, a Montana company that claims to have made 550 “wildfire responses on behalf of insurers,” including 255 in just the past two years. Right now in California, the company has 53 engines working to protect close to 1,000 homes.

The civil-liberties organization has taken a stand against stronger due-process protections in campus tribunals that undermines its own principles.

Last week, the NRA kept defending gun rights, the AARP kept advocating for older Americans, and the California Avocado Commission was as steadfast as ever in touting “nature’s highest achievement.” By contrast, the ACLU issued a public statement that constituted a stark, shortsighted betrayal of the organization’s historic mission: It vehemently opposed stronger due-process rights for the accused.

The matter began when Secretary of Education Betsy DeVos put forth new guidelines on how to comply with Title IX, the law that forbids colleges that receive federal funding to exclude any students, deny them benefits, or subject them to any discrimination on the basis of sex.

The most controversial changes concern what happens when a student stands accused of sexual misbehavior. “Under the new rules, schools would be required to hold live hearings and would no longer rely on a so-called single investigator model,” TheNew York Timesreports. “Accusers and students accused of sexual assault must be allowed to cross-examine each other through an adviser or lawyer. The rules require that the live hearings be conducted by a neutral decision maker and conducted with a presumption of innocence. Both parties would have equal access to all the evidence that school investigators use to determine facts of the case, and a chance to appeal decisions.” What’s more, colleges will now have the option to choose a somewhat higher evidentiary standard, requiring “clear and convincing evidence” rather than “a preponderance of the evidence” in order to establish someone’s guilt.

Their huge mounds cover an area the size of Britain, and are visible from space.

In the east of Brazil, mysterious cones of earth rise from the dry, hard-baked soil. Each of these mounds is about 30 feet wide at its base, and stands six to 13 feet tall. From the ground, with about 60 feet of overgrown land separating each mound from its neighbors, it’s hard to tell how many there are. But their true extent becomes dramatically clear from space.

Using satellite images, Roy Funch from the State University of Feira de Santana has estimated that there are about 200 million of these mounds. They’re arrayed in an uncannily regular honeycomb-like pattern. Together, they cover an area roughly the size of Great Britain or Oregon, and they occupy as much space as the Great Pyramid of Giza 4,000 times over. And this colossal feat of engineering is, according to Funch, the work of the tiniest of engineers—a species of termite called Syntermes dirus, whose workers are barely half an inch long.

Years later, many adults still pine for the days their school libraries, auditoriums, and gyms transformed into pop-up bookstores.

In the early 1980s, the world of school book fairs was “a highly competitive and very secretive industry,” according to a New York Timesarticleat the time. The fairs numbered in the thousands and spanned the United States. They were put on by a mix of organizers: A few national corporations, about 25 to 30 regional companies, and assorted bookstores.

By the 1990s, one organizer reigned: the Scholastic Corporation. Scholastic, founded in 1920 to publish books and magazines aimed at young readers, had purchased several of its smaller competitors. The company became the largest operator of children’s book fairs in the country, a title it still holds today.

But we’re not here to talk about Scholastic’s business history, and I think you know that. If you’re a young adult who attended elementary school in the United States, I’d guess that when you saw the headline on this story, something deep inside your mind cracked open. With an unmistakable pang of nostalgia,the memory of a Scholastic book fair, with all its concomitant joys, came flooding in.

At an international conference, allies grieved the loss of the United States they had believed in.

Updated at 2:50 p.m. ET on November 19, 2018

The Halifax Security Forum is designed to be a gathering of the world’s democratic countries, which are allied to protect each other. Hosted by the Canadian defense minister, the Forum’s signature is the brief videos that introduce the annual gathering. This year’s intro showed relay runners, mostly American, at the Olympics from Berlin in 1936 forward, ending in an uncertain baton handoff—a powerful metaphor for the free world’s worries about American leadership in the age of Trump.*

The Halifax Forum, occurring just after President Donald Trump unleashed yet another petulant tirade against Germany and France that culminated in the unseemly taunt that Parisians were speaking German until the U.S. intervened in World Wars I and II, had a funereal feel this year. Allies are grieving the loss of an America they believed in, as it sinks in that they cannot rely on us any longer.

Journalists have become complicit in spreading the president’s falsehoods and conspiracy theories. Here’s how they can do better.

The news media today face an epistemic crisis: how to publish the president’s commentary without amplifying his fabrications and conspiracy theories.

One flashpoint came several weeks ago, when President Donald Trump told Axios reporters that he planned to use an executive order to end birthright citizenship because, as he put it, “we’re the only country in the world where a person comes in and has a baby, and the baby is essentially a citizen.” On Twitter, Axios CEO and co-founder Jim VandeHei wrote, “Exclusive: Trump to terminate birthright citizenship.”

As many journalists quickly pointed out, this was multilayered malarkey. The president was proposing an unconstitutional means of obliterating the Fourteenth Amendment on the basis of a falsehood; more than two dozen countries in the Western Hemisphere have unrestricted jus soli laws, like the U.S. Axios was treating as fact a haphazard plan, in search of an impossible outcome, justified by a false assertion.